Sugar Water: Celebrity Soapbox!

Robert Cass lives in Chicago. For Popdose he's written under the Sugar Water, Bootleg City, and Box Office Flashback banners, and he spearheaded 'Face Time, a collaboration with Jeff Giles and Mike Heyliger.

Bad news — my girlfriend, Aimiee, and I are still on that steamship we boarded in China two weeks ago. You know the phrase “slow boat to China”? Well, it turns out the boats from China aren’t any faster. Internet service is spotty here at sea, not to mention it feels like there are always a billion people waiting in line behind me to use the ship’s one public computer, so publishing a new column last week became impossible. But during my five allotted minutes on the computer last Saturday, I read that movie star Matthew McConaughey was appearing on CNN’s House Call to discuss parenting with the show’s host, Dr. Sanjay Gupta. Matthew’s been a father for less than two months, so if CNN’s treating him like an authority on the subject he must really know his stuff!

I figured Matthew must know a lot about all kinds of stuff and therefore would enjoy an online forum in which to discuss his various interests and philosophies, so I got in touch with his agent, and the next day I received an e-mail from Matthew himself: “One question, Cassanova — would you like salt with that ‘rita?” I thought, “He’s going to write a no-holds-barred political column. Fantastic!” But then I started to wonder if he was going to send me an actual margarita in the mail. Either way, I was excited.

So, without further ado, here’s guest columnist Matthew McConaughey …

Hey. How y’all doin’? Everybody have a good summer? Hope so. Hard to believe it’s almost over. I’m like, “Whoa, summer, you leavin’ already? You just got here. Sit down and stay a while. Have some guac. Lemme get you a Corona.”

Y’all ever do that? Talk to inanimate objects? Or seasons, or feelings? I do that a lot. Keeps me one with nature and the infinite, which is important, because we’re all gonna be dust in the wind one day.

I’m not tryin’ to be a downer or nothing, but it’s true — make the most of what you have right now, brothers and sisters, and just keep livin’. That’s my motto, anyway. (It’s also the name of my production company, which means it’s a copyrighted motto. So do as I say, but don’t ever say it yourself. ‘Preciate it.)

Livin’ isn’t as carefree as it used to be, though. I’m a daddy now, and that’s a full-time J-O-B. Just ask my son’s nanny. Hahaha!

Naw, I’m just playin’ with you. Well, sorta — Levi does have a nanny, but she’s only on call 16 hours a day. But she lives in the guest house, so it’s good she’s close by whenever my girlfriend, Camila, and I are sunbathin’ and need someone to reapply Levi’s tannin’ lotion. It’s never too early to start worshippin’ the sun, y’all.

It’s never too early to attend your first concert, either. That’s why I took Levi to a John Mellencamp concert almost as soon as he popped out of the womb. He cried the entire time, probably because of all the negative energy comin’ off the people around us, who were sayin’ things like “Shut that baby up!” and “Unless you’re plannin’ to breast-feed that kid, put your shirt back on!”

If I hadn’t been high on some sweet, sweet herb at the time, I might’ve taken a swing at somebody, but instead I volunteered Levi for some crowd surfin’ during “The Authority Song,” and suddenly everybody was cool again, because everybody loves holdin’ a baby. When I picked Levi up at the lost-and-found booth a couple hours later, the lady behind the counter had already fallen in love for him. Work that charm, little man. Alright alright alright …

But seriously, y’all, I look at the world differently now. Take politics — before Levi was born, I didn’t care a lick about this presidential election. There was a black guy and a white chick callin’ each other names for what seemed like forever, but none of it mattered to me.

Now my eyes are wide open — I know that the black guy is Barack Obama and the white chick isn’t Joe Biden. And that’s a good thing, because I’m pretty sure Barack and Hillary don’t have the special chemistry that’s made me and Kate Hudson such a memorable on-screen couple. Did y’all see Fool’s Gold? Wasn’t it awesome? I’m lookin’ for more movies Katie and I can film near a beach with my shirt off. Keep your fingers crossed that that Magnum, P.I. movie gets made with me fillin’ Tom Selleck’s shoes, because he took his shirt off all the time on that show. If I have my way, Magnum’ll never put his shirt on, you know what I’m sayin’?

A female fan of mine suggested on one of those Internet message boards recently that I should play the Joker in the next Batman movie now that Heath Ledger’s no longer with us: “i think matthew mconaughey could do the role becaouse of his acting in texas chainsaw massacre 4.” I think that’s a great idea myself, “msashley,” but will the makeup department spring for enough greasepaint to cover my chest and upper torso? If not, thanks but no thanks, amigos.

Hey, speakin’ of jokers, who does this Josh Lucas fella think he is? I was here first, and that part in Sweet Home Alabama should’ve been mine! I bet Josh didn’t even nail Reese Witherspoon in her trailer between takes. What a waste! I mean, of all the actresses who could use a—

Hold on. I lost my center. Lemme find it again.

There it is. Okay, cool.

Sorry about that. Sometimes I get a little worked up about my competition. People keep sayin’ I should bury the hatchet and ask Josh to play my brother in a movie because he looks like me, kinda like Julia Roberts and Kyra Sedgwick in that movie where they played sisters. I put that movie on in the background to help ’em relax when we had a threesome back in ’97. But hey, that’s another story for another day — I gotta keep some secrets to myself. Alright alright alright …

My point is, you’re on notice, Josh. And don’t get cocky — you may have starred in Glory Road, but I called your bet and raised it with We Are Marshall, and soon I’ll be starrin’ in another inspirational true story called Glory Hole, about a down-on-his-luck bartender at some hole-in-the-wall tavern in Wyoming or somewhere who invents this thing that … Well, I haven’t read the script, but the girl I hired to read it for me said it’s awesome. “Road House meets Brokeback Mountain,” she said. Box-office gold, meet Oscar gold.

Los Angeles (E! Online) – Shirtless Matty Mac with his shirt on? This may be a sign of the apocalypse, but if so it’s a very mellow, Malibu-style apocalypse which involves Matthew McConaughey kickin’ back Spicoli-style with some tasty waves.

It’s the perfect way to end the world, or at least the weekend, on a lazy So-Cal Sunday.

Look, I’m flattered and all, E!, but c’mon — that’s not news. You need at least three paragraphs and four sentences for it to qualify as news. I learned that in my high school newspaper class. I used to write a column for that paper called “Why Do You Think They Call It High School?” Get it? Yeah, I learned a lot in that newspaper class. I lost my virginity in that class. So many memories, y’all.

But what I’m tryin’ to say is that even though celebrity news is a necessary part of everyone’s daily lives, it shouldn’t be the primary focus of anybody’s life — even a celebrity like myself. We need to concentrate on what’s important, like family, and the economy, and the future of this great nation of ours. Otherwise we’ll look just as superficial as China, where an adorable nine-year-old girl lip-synched a patriotic song at the opening ceremony of the Olympics while the real singer, a seven-year-old girl, was hidden offstage because she’s got “a chubby face and uneven teeth,” accordin’ to this AP story I read last week.

That’s cold, people. But check this out: What if I didn’t write what you’re readin’ right now? What if Mr. Bobby Cassanova did all the real work and then slapped my name on this column just to get a few more eyeballs to visit Popdoze or whatever it’s called? I know it sounds completely crazy, but it could happen. Kinda scary how easily the public can be misled, huh?

It reminds me of the story that dominated the news back in January of 1991, when America learned that the skinny model in C+C Music Factory’s “Gonna Make You Sweat” video wasn’t the actual singer beltin’ out that chorus. The real singer was Martha Wash, a plus-size mama whose full figure didn’t fit the image C+C and Columbia Records wanted to present to the public. The fat lady had sung, but since America couldn’t see her singin’, the judges ruled that “it” was not over, which is why China is repeatin’ history 17 years later. Not alright alright alright …

But hey, I ain’t mad at you, China. I love all one zillion of y’all. Seriously. Just tryin’ to remind you that looks aren’t everything, though we all get caught up in it from time to time.

Take me, for example. You think I like maintainin’ this thick, gorgeous head of hair and these killer abs? Hell no! But it’s what the public demands, and movie stardom is a service industry above all else. Of course, every now and then I drink a 12-pack of Coors and eat a half gallon of rocky road in one sitting just to fight the system. I vomit it all up as soon as I’m done, but while I’m piggin’ out I feel good about the message I’m sendin’ to Levi, not to mention all the fat kids with braces out there who need our support.

Hey, look, y’all, I gotta run. Camila and I are plannin’ una fiesta grande for tomorrow night. (I try to speak Spanish around her whenever I can since she’s from Brazil. I don’t want my baby to get too homesick.) The Incredible Bongo Band, my all-time favorite bongo band, is playin’, and my good buddy Lance Armstrong is gonna do some Evel Knievel-type stunts for us. He keeps tellin’ me, “Matthew, I didn’t win the Tour de France seven times because I can jump over the Grand Canyon.” But a bike’s a bike, right? I’ll just make sure the shark I rent for the party has sinus problems. That way he won’t be able to smell Lance’s blood if he falls in the tank. Common sense, y’all.

The reason we’re celebratin’ tomorrow is because I saved Levi’s placenta last month, and we’re gonna plant it in our new kiwi orchard in the backyard here in Malibu. It’s an aboriginal tradition down in Australia, see — whatever grows on top of the placenta derives its strength from it. It’s a beautiful, beautiful thing. Plus, this way when our friends and family come over and want some kiwi, we can say, “Here you go. Just make sure you wash off the afterbirth first.” Hahaha! I can’t wait to see the look on their faces.